


There was no one words with which to brand the moment

by Narcissa_Mottershead



Series: The Golden Blaze [2]
Category: Upstairs Downstairs (2011)
Genre: Blanche and Portia, Cute, F/F, Fem, Femslash, First Kiss, Fluff, Portia and Blanche, The Golden Blaze, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa_Mottershead/pseuds/Narcissa_Mottershead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was no one word with which to brand the moment" </p><p>Second instillment of The Golden Blaze series. Blanche and Portia's first kiss. <br/>I hope you enjoy ! <br/>Please let me know what you think in the comments section</p>
            </blockquote>





	There was no one words with which to brand the moment

They sat, huddled around the little campfire, talking merrily, drinks and cigarettes in hand. Portia watched as Blanche sat back in her little canvas chair, her thin little cigar balanced between her fingers, eyes staring unseeingly into the fire. She looked up suddenly; catching Portia’s gaze and the ghost of a smile flickered across her mouth as she caught the younger woman staring at her.   
“Blanche,” someone said, forcing her attention away from the other woman, and back to the little group. “Tell us a story wont you?” one of the men asked.   
“Oh yes please do,” said another. “Gibbons is boring us all to sobs,” he smirked, sending a ripple of laughter among the men. The little group around the campfire all started pleading her jokingly, but it was Portia she was looking at. The other woman sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, smiling.   
“Go on then,” she coaxed. Blanche smiled a little and tossed the end of her cigarillo into the fire and stood up.   
“Okay,” she smiled. “This,” she said, looking unblinkingly into Portia’s warm dark eyes, “is the story of Isis and Osiris.” 

And thus Blanche began to tell the tragic love story that belonged to Isis and Osiris, the King and Queen of the Egyptian Gods. Portia watched, mesmerised as Blanche told her tail, the soft orange fire light making her bright eyes sparkle as she enchanted the group with her beautiful tragedy, and the tail of the Goddess’s love and loss. She seemed to come alive as she lost herself in the beauty and sorrow of her story. 

###

Blanche padded barefoot around her little tent, listening to the soft wind that seemed to be running circles around her canvas home, tidying away various papers and books before she began to get ready for bed.   
“I enjoyed your story earlier,” said a familiar voice from the flap of her tent. She turned to find the slim redhead standing in her doorway, a small smile on her lips.   
“I’m glad,” she said, setting down the papers in her hands. “It’s one of my favourites.”   
“I could tell,” Portia smiled. “I could see it in the way you told the story. Your passion for your work is one of the things that I admire most about you.” Blanche smirked a little.   
“One of the things?” she asked. “Are there more?” Portia’s gaze turned a little more serious as she stepped a little further in.   
“Many,” she said simply. Silence hung over the two women for a moment, the room seeming to still as her words lingered in between them. A strong gust of wind shuddered through the little tent, breaking the silence, making them both shiver.   
“Gibbons thinks there is a sand storm on its way,” Blanche said, going to look out at the flap at the darkening campsite, avoiding her warm gaze as she did so. “You should go back to your tent. Take shelter.”   
“I would rather stay here, and wait it out with you.” Blanche looked up at her, failing to conceal the surprise on her face. “If that is alright with you of course,” Portia added quickly.   
“Certainly,” Blanche said, giving her a small nod. Portia shivered slightly as a cold little gust of wind penetrated the gap in the tent flap again, making her hair rustle around her shoulders.   
“You look cold,” Blanche observed. “Here,” she said, picking up a blanket from the end of her bed. She walked up close behind Portia and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, her hands lingering just a moment, fingertips brushing the silk of her robe. Portia turned so that she was facing her, the two of them now standing very close to one another, so much so that Blanche could smell the subtle scent of the younger woman’s French perfume on her soft skin. Portia smiled.   
“Thank you,” she said, looking up into Blanche’s light eyes. A little tightly coiled curl had escaped the constraints of Blanche’s hairpins, and was hanging down the side of her face next to her eye. Portia reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear, her hand lingering at the side of her face. Blanche’s lips felt soft, like silk against her own. She felt the woman’s hands, flutter nervously down her arms, sending shivers of pleasure and anticipation across her skin, every nerve ending seemingly set alight by her paper light touch as she drew her gently closer. She felt her tongue against her lips, gently probing it’s way tentatively to meet her own. There was no one word with which to brand the moment. Portia’s body was being filled with spices, as she was guided slowly towards the bed, her heart racing, her mind whirring.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the second part of The Golden Blaze series!   
> Please let me know what you think in the comments section! I love to hear your opinions :)


End file.
